Imokor
by Tragicomic
Summary: Three young Jedi are dispatched to assist a remote planet with its piracy problem. But they are quickly caught in a network of political intrigue and revolution that will shape the rest of their lives.
1. Chapter 1

The halls of the Jedi Temple were never quiet with Elor and Tomet around. After eight centuries of meditation and introspection, a sentient learned to appreciate the serenity of the Temple; but those two young Jedi had yet to learn the patience to find companionship in silence. _Which perhaps is as it should be, _Yoda mused as the pair cascaded into the Library on the heels of some fascinating new conversation. Still, it seemed like there had been no silence to be found in the Temple ever since Tomet arrived seventeen years ago.

Both were clad in the tan clothing of the Padawan. Elor was a short but tautly muscled young man with a dancer's grace of motion; Tomet, a slim Zabrak woman, silver-skinned with a delicate tracery of black tattoos covering her face. As the two friends spoke, she attacked every gesture and emphasis with characteristic intensity. Their voices faded into the silence of the Library as they approached Yoda.

A quiet smile emerged on Yoda's face as Elor and Tomet fell still and stood before him, waiting quietly for him to explain his summons. Though they had the restless energy and willfulness of typical youths, they nonetheless both showed fine potential as Jedi. They would rise to match the task he had for them, he was sure.

"Wonder why you are here, you do?" the sage asked after a long silence.

"We do, Master Yoda," Elor answered. "We were sparring when Pel said you wished to see us."

"Lucky for him, too," Tomet said. "He was losing."

"Ignore the latecomer, Master. Her pride, alas, continues to be her downfall."

Yoda, smiling, stopped them with an upraised hand. "Peace, my friends. Important news I have, and important questions."

Once again they fell silent, and Yoda beckoned them to walk with him through the Library.

"Sparring, you were." They nodded. "Much time you spend in this competition."

"It's a friendly competition, Master," Tomet said.

"Criticize it, I do not. Indeed, great potential as duelists you have, inform me your masters do. Perhaps the most of any now in training. Asked yourselves, have you, if this dedication to combat has distracted you from learning the inward councils of the Jedi?"

A glance was exchanged between them. "I don't think so, Master." Elor replied calmly.

"We know that the Jedi are warriors only by last resort. We spar because it is something we do well, not because we desire battle. Is it not a good thing to take joy in practicing one's talents?"

"It is not. At the heart of the Jedi Order, such a joy is. And none are there who doubt your dedication to the pursuit of the Jedi Code. Why I have called you here today, this is. A task I have for both of you, and no small one." Yoda stopped before a bank of computers above which hung a hologram of what appeared to be a star sector. He turned and looked at Elor and Tomet as they absorbed this.

"We are glad you think us ready for an assignment, Master," Tomet said finally.

"And glad am I that ready you are, children. A hard time this is for the Jedi Order. Stretched our resources are by the war with the Separatists, as know well you do." Their Masters, like many at the time, had been gone from the Temple on assignment for some time. "Even so, give this task to ones so young as yourselves I would not, if think I did not that you were prepared for it."

"If you will forgive my impatience, Master, what is it that have for us?" Tomet said.

"A mission to gather information for the Order." Yoda gestured at the holomap before them. "A little known sector of space this is, on the Outer Rim. The Imokor Sector." As Elor approached the map, the Master noticed a strange expression briefly cross his face. "What is it, my Padawan?"

"Nothing, Master. I...I simply had an odd feeling for a moment, when I first saw the map. It's gone now."

"Wise it is not to lightly treat such feelings, Elor. No great thing is the task I have chosen for you; but it may be that more for you Imokor holds than you expect."

"Yes, Master." Elor's face furrowed in thought.

Turning back, Yoda touched a certain portion of the map. It expanded, zooming in to a particular system. A yellow star hung in the center, surrounded by several planets and a pair of asteroid belts. Two of the planets were highlighted, marking them as habited worlds. The one closer to the sun was labeled _Imokor I._ "Here, your destination shall be. Distant and often ignored, Imokor is. Troubled, it has been in recent times. Although still a part of the Republic, oppose the Republic's rule many of its citizens do. With crime and piracy, rife is the sector. And the Imokor system most of all."

Yoda drew a circle around an area of the hologram. It grew once more, focusing on Imokor I. The planet hung brown and blue between the system's two asteroid belts. Shipping lanes and hyperspace routes were traced on the map. Large blotches of red covered sections of the asteroid belts, encroaching upon the planet in between.

"In recent years, grown has the rate of attacks on ships near Imokor. A few weeks ago, boarded and destroyed was a Republic peacekeeping vessel. Change something has within the organization of pirates in the system, it would seem. If too powerful they grow, possible it is that the system will be lost to us. Too little force, the Republic has at this time to spend it on lesser threats. And with the loss of Imokor, likely it is that the rest of the sector might fall. Connected, all such things are. Break this chain, we must."

"What must we do, Master?" Tomet asked.

"To attempt the destruction of this threat, I do not ask you. A task for older and more experienced Jedi, that is. But gather information we must, before others are sent. A Jedi must know how to sense the patterns around himself, and seek out their source. This you will have to do in Imokor, and bring back what knowledge you have found." Yoda reached down and removed a data chip from the console. He handed it to Elor. "Contained within this, much of the information we possess about Imokor is, as well as instructions for you. Wait for you at your quarters, Master Kenne does. The details of your missions, he will give you. Now go." A sudden feeling of loss struck Yoda as he turned his back on the youths. _The Force tells me that I do not fully understand what I do today. _

_As is ever the case with the great Master Yoda_, a voice taunted in his past.

As Elor and Tomet walked away, Yoda's voice called them back one last time, quavering inexplicably. "My children..."

"Yes, Master?"

"Trust you, I can?"

Tomet stepped forward. "Of course you can, Master Yoda."

"Good. No occasion for rash action is this." A glint of his old humor reappeared. "Perhaps a lesson this will teach you on how to keep your weapons hidden."

.

.

.

Tomet swept down the hall at breakneck speed, heading for the Padawan quarters. Elor hugged her heels like a leaf carried along by a wind. She turned impatiently to face him. "Why so slow?"

"Why the rush?" he bantered back, but his face betrayed distraction.

"Isn't this what we've been waiting for? A chance to get out and start putting our talents to use?"

Elor shrugged. "I don't know." He fell in beside her as she began to walk again. "I can't say why...but I've got a bad feeling about this."


	2. Chapter 2

Elor watched as his friend Pel practiced alone in the sparring chamber. The frail Kel Dor rarely sparred against other Padawans; his congenitally weak constitution made him inferior in lightsaber combat to almost all his peers. Instead, he seemed to regard the use of his saber as a form of moving meditation, a solitary pursuit. The arc of his double-bladed lightsaber was beautiful to observe as he danced through the empty room.

The Kel Dor's physical shortcomings were a result of an illegal genetic experiment carried out by a group of renegade Kel Dorans two decades before. The objective of the experiment had been to create a new breed of Kel Dor who, unlike the rest of their species, would be able to breathe oxygen, freeing them from the necessity of wearing methane breathing masks when consorting with most other races. Pel was the only infant that survived the experiment, and while it succeeded in the sense that Pel could indeed breathe oxygen, he had been feeble and wracked with illnesses his whole life. The Jedi Order had taken him in after a group of Jedi located and destroyed the illegal genetics facility. Pel had not left the confines of the Jedi Temple since then, as his tenuous physical condition made it difficult for him to travel safely.

But what he lacked in body strength, Pel more than made up for in sheer Force ability and native wisdom. The Kel Dor's squidlike visage hid a compassionate soul and an innate understanding of the Jedi Code. He was the darling of Master Yoda, as Elor and Tomet were favored by Master Windu. In Force skills and inner equilibrium he was unsurpassed by any of his peers. Thus, when Pel requested access to the Jedi files on the Sith for use in building his double-bladed lightsaber, the Masters allowed it with little hesitation. As with all other things, Pel took the creation of his lightsaber, not as a simple mechanical exercise, but as another test of his concentration and willpower.

Pel, Elor, and Tomet had been best friends for as long as anyone could remember. The three Padawans together held the best talent of any of the young Jedi currently in training. They were an odd trio—Elor and Tomet's rascally behavior and frequently unorthodox interpretations of the Jedi Code often pained the more straitlaced Pel. Nonetheless, they had stuck together throughout training, even after they were all accepted by different Masters.

Now, as Elor watched Pel's perambulations through the practice room, he wondered how long it would be before he saw his friend next. He had hoped that Master Yoda might have sent Pel with them on their mission to the Imokor Sector, but the diminutive Jedi had mentioned nothing of Pel. Perhaps it was a test of their non-attachment; a Jedi, after all, should not cling to friends or loved ones, especially when the friend is another Jedi.

The sound of Pel powering down his lightsaber startled Elor from his reverie. Placing the saber back in its sheathe, Pel turned to face Elor where he stood in the doorway.

"I will never get used to you doing that," Elor said with a grin.

"If you paid a little more attention to your surroundings, you might not find it so difficult to sense the presence of others yourself," Pel replied with equanimity.

They stood in silence for a moment.

"Tomet and I are leaving."

"I felt it," Pel said simply.

"We're being sent on a mission. Gathering intelligence in some forsaken corner of the galaxy. I don't know when we'll be back. A long time, probably."

"When do you go?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"I see." There was another long pause as the two young men looked at each other.

"I'll miss you," Elor said finally.

"I'll miss you too." They embraced. "Don't worry, my friend. I think the Force will bring us back together before long."

.

.

.

Pel couldn't sleep. There was a turmoil within him that he was unable to quell. He tried to meditate, but still he could not find the inner peace that usually came to him so easily. After several hours of tossing and turning, he came to a decision. Leaping from his bed, he donned his Padawan's robes and headed to the Observatory.

Deep in the lower levels of the Temple, the Observatory was a vast, domed room, empty save for a ring of fountains around the outer rim. The ceiling of the circular chamber was actually a gigantic holoscreen, onto which could be projected a view of the sky from any area in the known universe. The name of the room's architect was lost to time, but whoever it was had been possessed of a fine sense of irony; despite being situated hundreds of feet below the surface of Coruscant, it was the only place on the entire polluted world from which one could see the stars.

The room was hushed and dark. Above, the sky was black and dusted with brilliantly white stars. Pel did not recognize any of the constellations. He began walking to the center of the room, where he knew Master Yoda would be found.

Before Pel was halfway there, he heard Yoda's voice echo softly from ahead of him. "Up so late, my young friend?" A gentle light filled the middle of the Observatory, revealing the Master.

"I could not sleep tonight, my Master."

"Nor could I, Pel. Believe I do, that the source of your disturbance is the same as mine."

"I think that it is, Master Yoda. That is why I came looking for you."

"Know you did, that I was here?" Yoda inquired.

"I sensed you, Master. Your presence is not hard to detect."

"Not for you, perhaps," Yoda said. "But as sensitive to the outside world as you are, your two friends are not."

"No, Master." Pel was quiet for a moment, struggling for words. Eventually, "Master, I think you know what I am going to say."

"I do. But say it yourself you must."

Pel inhaled deeply, then let out the breath. "All right, Master. I wish to go with Elor and Tomet on their mission to Imokor." He stopped, expecting Yoda to interject; but the Master simply gazed at him, silently saying, _Continue._ "I do not ask this because I am afraid of being separated from them. You know that I am aware of the danger of attachment. But...I have to leave the Temple. Someday. Soon. Weak as I am, I cannot stay here all my life."

"Why not?" Yoda finally interrupted. "Many Jedi there are who spend their lives in the Temple. Warriors and diplomats, not all can be. Teachers and historians we need as well."

"But I cannot be one of them, Master." Pel turned away suddenly, looking upward at the false sky above them. His voice wavered, uncertain. His back to Yoda, he said, "I have lived in the Temple all my life. And it has been...good. I have become a whole person here, despite the innate divisions of my genetic code. But I cannot continue to be a whole person unless I leave. Unless I put what I have learned to use. Elsewhere." He turned back to Yoda. "Do you understand me, Master?"

The tiny green Jedi bowed his head. "Understood this I have, for a long time. Choose I would not, to lose all three of my favorite students at once. But selfish I was to try to hold you here."

Pel seemed almost frightened by his unexpected success. "Then...I can go with them?"

"Your guidance, they will need. Calmed by your wisdom, their brashness must be." Yoda pointed upward at one of the brightest stars above. "Your destination, that is."

Pel crouched down to bid Yoda farewell. As he did so, Yoda put his hands on Pel's shoulders. "Moved all three of you are by a strange destiny. Protect you from it, I cannot. Count on you, I must, to keep the others safe. My wisest pupil."

Pel lowered his forehead to touch the other's, a rare gesture of intimacy with the most venerable of the Jedi.

"Fly in the morning, your ship does. Now go prepare." The stars winked out as Pel departed.


	3. Chapter 3

When most people wake from a sleep of any length, they take a brief pause before rising; a moment to collect themselves from the world of dreams and steel their will against the day ahead. Not so with Tomet. She arose from her bed every day as if propelled by an outside force. Instantly on her feet, donning robes, strapping on her lightsaber, organizing the small bag of possessions she was to take with her on her journey. The Zabrak was a creature of constant, forceful movement.

This morning, though, her usual focus was nagged by smaller thoughts. Worries, mostly; about the length, importance, and difficulty of the task facing her; about her own competence; and most of all, about that which she was leaving behind. Pel, to be specific.

But her usual single-mindedness prevailed over her distractions. Within fifteen minutes of waking, she was packed, dressed, and ready to go. Grabbing her knapsack, Tomet strode out the door and down the hallway, to Elor's sleeping chambers.

He was already waiting outside the door by the time she arrived. "Up early," he said as she approached.

"Out with the tide. Early bird catches the worm. And so forth."

"Yes indeed." He sighed, looking up at the ceiling. "Goodbye, Jedi Temple."

"We won't be gone so long. We've been on trips before."

"Short ones, with our Masters. I don't know, something just tells me that this place won't be the same to me the next time I see it."

In unspoken unison, they began walking down the hall to the port where their shuttle waited. "Well," Tomet said, "I suppose it won't. We won't be children anymore."

"No. I guess this is our first real step out of our apprenticeship, isn't it?"

Tomet nodded. "Like it or not, this mission is bound to change the way we look at things."

The conversation ended there, and the two Padawans walked along in silence, absorbing one last time the quiet of the citadel in which they had spent their childhoods. After a short hoverlift ride to the top of the Temple, they arrived in the hangar where a small shuttle waited to take them to their ship. Upon approaching the shuttle, they were greeted by an unexpected sight: Pel.

"Didn't we already go over the goodbyes, Squiddy?" Elor said.

Pel smiled. "As it turns out, they were premature. I'm going with you."

This was greeted with happily surprised yells and embraces from both Elor and Tomet. After the furor died down, Tomet asked, "What made Master Yoda change his mind? I never thought he'd let his favorite Youngling go."

"I spoke to him, and he agreed with me that it was best I go with you. It was as simple as that."

Tomet laughed in mock disbelief. "Do I hear correctly? Did Pel Squidface, golden boy of the Council, herald of the Jedi Code, arrange an audience with Master Yoda simply to indulge in an _attachment to his friends_?"

Pel accepted the ribbing as he accepted everything: with maddening grace. "Not at all. It's time I got out of the Temple and saw a little of the galaxy I've been trained to protect—Yoda and I both think so."

"Well, whatever the reason, I'm glad you'll be with us," Elor said.

"So am I, my friend." Pel motioned them towards the loading ramp of the shuttle. "Someone has to keep an eye on you two."

They were greeted on the ramp by the captain of the small ground-to-orbit vessel. He was a weathered old Duros, his skin unusually dark; almost a navy blue. Greeting them in unaccented Basic, he said, "Welcome aboard the _Bell Curve_. Master Kenne is waiting for you in the passenger hold." They filed past him, nodding thanks at the venerable sentient. Elor and Tomet set down their possessions in a small cargo locker, then followed Pel down the hall.

Through the door was a small room with a few chairs and a table; a spartan chamber, meant only to hold the passengers long enough to reach orbit. Master Kenne stood in the center of the room. He was a tall, powerfully built human, renowned in many parts of the galaxy for his skills in battle, both as a warrior and as a leader.

"Tomet, Elor, Pel; good day to you," he greeted mellifluously. They murmured their replies. "Your ship takes off in a little under an hour. I've put your instructions and the necessary intelligence on a data chip for you; it should cover most of what you need to know." He pulled the chip out from his robe and handed it to Tomet. "I've included orders for any Republic ship to allow you use of its comm system if it becomes urgently necessary that you contact the Council. However, I would discourage doing so unless you are forced to, as it would tend to draw attention. We still don't know just how widespread the corruption in Imokor is, and we need you to be as unobtrusive as possible." Kenne looked around, meeting each of their eyes. "Any questions?"

Tomet stepped forward. "Where do we start, Master? Are there any contacts on the planet that we should know about?"

Kenne nodded. "I'm glad you asked. There's a doctor on Imokor, a Zabrak like yourself, who we think might be able to give you some information. From what my agents tell me, he's mixed up in some way with a lot what's going on below the surface of Imokoan society. We don't know what side he's on, though, so it would behoove you to be cautious. His name is Theik Osorion. Besides him, there's man named Herth who might be able to give you some information. Herth's a low-level smuggler of some sort, no one important. He's done business with our spies before, although he probably didn't know it."

"Where can we find these two, Master?" Elor asked.

"Herth moves around a good deal, but he lives in the capital city. The location is on the data chip I gave you. As for Theik, he moves around even more. You'll have to root him out on your own. I suggest you start with the smuggler and work your way up; but obviously that's up to you." Kenne grinned at them. "Good luck, young ones; you may wind up needing it. Be careful, and may the Force be with you."

Kenne swept out the door and off the ship. The young Jedi settled into their seats, and it seemed like only minutes before the ship began to rumble, lifting them away from the surface of Coruscant and towards the orbiting Republic freighter that would take them to their final destination.


	4. Chapter 4

The captain of the freighter _Verity _was a huge and imposing Wookie, covered in gray fur and leather tool bandoleers. A spindly device attached to the side of his mouth translated his growled words into a human voice, speaking Basic in a low rumble. "Welcome aboard my ship, young Jedi," he said. "My name is Kerrowr. The Council tells me I'm to bring you home with me, yes?"

The three Padawans nodded their assent. Tomet said, "We're grateful for your assistance in this matter, Captain. If there is anything you need of us, please say so."

"Always happy to help the Jedi Council," Kerrowr replied. "Relax, enjoy your time here. If what I know of Jedi work is any indication, the few days you spend here will be the last time you can relax for some time." Beckoning them to follow, he led them down the corridor. "No doubt you are aware that Imokor is not a very safe place these days, yes? I do not think we will be attacked, but if we do run into any pirates on the way back, I hope you will be able to give some aid to my men in the defense."

Elor bowed slightly. "We will aid all we can if it comes to that, Captain. I must warn you not to rely too heavily on our help, though; we are still only trainees in our Order."

Kerrowr grunted. "I know Jedi, little one, and I'm sure any one of you three can be quite as deadly as any ten of my men if you need to be. Padawan or no."

The three Padawans smiled a little nervously to each other; none of them had ever yet been tested in genuine combat. Kerrowr led them to a closed doorway. "Through there are your quarters; you will not be disturbed by my men. Truth to tell, I think they're a little overawed having three of the Order aboard the ship all of a sudden."

Elor and Pel thanked the captain and went through the door. As it hissed shut behind them, Kerrowr turned to Tomet, who had waited. "Something to say, young one?"

Tomet looked up into the imposing Wookie's face and said, "If it's not too much trouble, Captain, I would love to see some of your ship. I've never been on a freighter of this size before."

Kerrowr's face was inscrutable, but his translator's voice replied warmly. "No trouble at all. I'm making my rounds now before we make the jump to hyperspace; you can follow along."

They walked down the corridor, towards the aft of the ship. "Loading a ship like this is fairly simple." Kerrowr explained. "The ship itself is really just a carrying structure for huge cargo modules which come pre-loadedwith cargo. They attach to the bottom of the ship and then are detached at the destination. So other than the passengers we carry on board the ship proper, we really don't have to load cargo at all. I've worked on many ships that us the more conventional onload-offload system, and this is a hell of a lot easier, believe me."

As Kerrowr led Tomet into the vast, noisy engine room, she said, "You mentioned before that you were familiar with the ways of the Jedi. Have you worked with a Jedi Knight before?"

Kerrowr huffed in what may have been the Wookie equivalent of a chuckle. Tomet had spent little time with the Wookies and was finding the hirsute captain difficult to read—an unusual feeling for her. "When I was young—for my race, of course; this would have been when I was in my thirties or forties, perhaps—when I was young, I joined the Republic army to suppress a minor rebellion that had arisen in one of the outer sectors. There was a Jedi Knight who led my unit for some time." That snort again. "Working with him was—an educational experience."

They passed by a group of men who clustered around a section of exposed wiring. Kerrowr stopped to speak to them briefly before continuing his conversation with Tomet. "Some years after the war—before I began my current career—I was down on my luck living in one of Coruscant's lower levels, when I was attacked and very badly hurt by one of the many unpleasant beings you find in such places. A Jedi Master found me afterwards and healed me of my wounds.. I never did learn his name, but I suppose I owe him a debt of gratitude. That was just before I began working on freighters like this one; three or four decades ago, I suppose."

Kerrowr turned the conversation to the topic of his ship. Tomet followed along, sensing that further inquiries into the captain's past would not be welcome.

***

The journey from the Core to the remote Imokor System took almost a week. In that week, Tomet spent most of her time in exploration of the ship, taking advantage of the wide berth the crew gave the three Padawans to wander through various off-limits areas of the freighter. Pel strolled from one end of the ship to the other in what might in a lesser man be described as a nervous pace, when he wasn't in his quarters meditating. Elor, on the other hand, studied.

As the _Veracity _slid out of hyperspace a light-second or two from Imokor, Tomet jogged through the door to the room she and Elor shared to find her friend sitting on his bed with a holo-projector on, displaying an incandescent sphere—a map of a planet. Breathless, she said, "Still reading, short one? Even Pel gets out of his room sometimes, you know."

Elor tapped at the air in front of him and the map disappeared, replaced by a scrolling text holo. "Exciting as I'm sure the good ship _Verity_ is, I felt that at least one of us should be reasonably familiar with the nature of our mission before we actually try to carry it out." He finally looked up. "And while I've been studiously applying myself to the work at hand, you've been...out for a jog?"

Grinning, Tomet shut the door and began unselfconsciously to change out of her sweat-soaked garments. "Hey, physical fitness is very important to our work, Elor. The body is our working-place, after all." She put on a new shirt, then sat against the wall and started stretching her legs. Through gritted teeth, she asked, "So, responsible boy, what did you learn?"

"Well, since you asked...Imokor, fourth planet of a six-planet distant-binary system, primary sun class G. The planet itself is metal-rich rock-silicate, with a slightly lower than standard gravity and a slightly higher than standard temperature. Surface is only 35% covered in water; small axial tilt corresponds to mild seasons. Coastlines are most habitable, with the inland regions being mostly arid. Two major oceans and a medium-size northern ice cap. There is a world government that operates on a variant of direct democracy with a regulated market economy, but over the past century or three many regions, especially the inland areas, have grown gradually more independent and are now almost separate nations. They call themselves Cantons, most are a sort of feudalistic command economy. The planet is the most heavily industrialized in the sector—not that that's saying much, but they have the facilities to produce destroyer-class warships if they want to, which they don't. Oh, and they have a big space piracy problem. Which is what brings us here."

"And...is there any reason at all that I should spend an entire week memorizing all that?"

"Anal retentiveness and a love of small details?"

"Ah, right. Two traits which I am, of course, famous for."

"I detect sarcasm in the Force. I take it from the aggressive way you're limbering up that you want to spar?"

"You know me too well." She sprang to her feet and grabbed her lightsaber from the bed beside her. "Know a place we can go?"

***

The observation room hummed with the sound of two lightsabers. Elor and Tomet had cleared the chairs and tables in the small round room to the side and were now circling around each other, taking a brief rest from their hour-long exercise. Several times members of the crew had stopped to glance in from the hallway outside, but they always retreated hastily at the sight of two Jedi going at it with sabers ablaze. Elor's orange blade buzzed angrily as Tomet attacked again with her blue.

To most observers, the spar would have been impressive, exciting, a little frightening. To Pel, it was just painful. Firstly, because his weak body had always kept him from taking the kind of joy from lightsaber practice that Tomet and Elor seemed to; but more importantly, because he knew exactly what it was that they were practicing.

Pel knew his friends; he knew how they fought, and he could see the way the spar had changed since it began. At first it was just a warm-up, a gentle back-and-forth to get the blood pumping. Then it became a game, as Elor and Tomet tried to impress each other with grander and grander strokes. Finally, it had transformed into a competition, as it always did. The Padawans threw all their strength into penetrating the other's defenses, the speed of the strokes increased to a blinding pace, and the air filed with the smell of ozone. And now the two were resting, recuperating their strength to begin again.

But as Pel watched them start up again, he knew that this was something different. The faintest of expressions crossed Elor's face as he parried and struck back, his gentle smile subtly changing into something angrier, more menacing. Tomet's lip curled as she jumped into the air to avoid Elor's slash and brought her own blade scything downward towards his head. Teeth gritted, pupils dilated. They began to emit small, involuntary noises; grunts, hisses, growls, all almost unnoticeable to anyone not as familiar with the two as Pel. After several minutes of this, the two seemed to be genuinely after one another's blood; they showed no visible caution for the safety of their opponent, and if one had slipped, the other surely would have died.

Then suddenly and for no apparent reason they both powered down their lightsabers and ceased, bursting into bubbly post-exhilaratory conversation. Their customary smiles returned, and it was almost possible to forget the fierce final minutes of their spar.

Not to Pel, though. He knew too well what the cause of the change had been.

Elor and Tomet came out the door almost at the same time, still talking and laughing. The conversation stopped when Tomet almost ran directly into Pel. "Whoa, Squid. How long have you been there?"

"The entire time, actually," the Kel Dor replied dryly. "Perhaps you would have noticed had you not been so caught up in the heat of the moment." The final four words were almost imperceptibly stressed.

Tomet sighed. Elor said, "I take it you still disapprove of our explorations, then."

"You know I do, Elor. I always have. There is a reason that the Council declared the Grey Jedi heretics and exiled them from the Order. Allowing one's emotions to affect the use of the Force leads to the Dark Side, as you should well know, and it is very dangerous. Especially for a Padawan."

"Not everyone follows the Unified Force as you do, Pel. Master Jinn himself used his emotions to strengthen his bond to the Force. He was famous for it." Elor's voice was quiet, measured.

"He was also a maverick who disobeyed the Council on multiple occasions, if you recall. The Living Force is well and good, but that does not make it right or safe to mix emotions with the Force. It goes against the Code, Elor."

A measure of heat entering her voice, Tomet said, "Elor and I aren't doing anything dangerous, Pel; we're just exploring our abilities. I hope you trust us to do so?"

Pel's nostrils flared; the Kel Dor equivalent of a sigh. "And I hope my trust is well founded." His voice softened. "I care for you both, you know that. I do not question your motives—I simply fear for your safety, my friends."

Elor nodded, looking downwards. "I understand, Pel, and I thank you." Glancing back up, a teasing spark suffused his eyes. "Anyway, with you watching over us, how far wrong could any of us really go?"

Pel's demeanor lightened as well, and the tension diminished. Just as Tomet was opening her mouth to change the subject, a loud siren came over the ship's intercom. The lights turned orange.

"Attention all hands, pirate ships inbound. We are about to be boarded. You know the drill; get to it." Kerworr's basso voice thundered through the ship, icily calm. The three Padawans looked at each other, a similar enforced calm falling over their faces. As one, they turned and ran in the direction of the bridge.


	5. Chapter 5

The _Verity _was afire with activity. Men and women ran pell-mell down the halls in every direction, preparing the merchant vessel for the impending assault. The orange glow of the ship's emergency lights cast a garish blanket over every surface of the ship, giving it the look of a stampeding circus. Pel, Tomet, and Elor sprinted towards the bow, dodging their way through the stream of crewmembers with preternatural grace.

So intent were the three Padawans on reaching the bridge that Elor, leading the trio, almost ran directly into the massive, hirsute chest of the Wookie captain. Kerrowr was in the midst of shouting orders at various crew as they passed him, seeming to know each by name and job description; now he whirled around to bark orders at the Jedi. "You three, I need you on the bridge!"

Breathing heavy but controlled, Elor said, "That's just where we were headed, sir. How many are there?"

The Wookie's translator relayed a grim laugh. "Too many, boy. More than I've seen in this part of the system before. But if you're any good with those lightsticks you wear, we just might carry the day." Kerrowr's black eyes glinted appraisingly, then he drew the Jedi in closer. Speaking quieter, he said,"They caught us unaware and outmatched, but I've tangled with these marauders before and I know how they work. They'll send a few small parties to break through the escape pod locks, then push their main force through to the bridge while a couple saboteurs sneak into the shield generators by way of the luggage hold." Turning away, Kerrowr diverted the course of a passing group of armed spacers. He then addressed them along with the Padawans: "Get to the bridge and hole up there until they come; it shouldn't be hard to defend. Pel, take four of these men and try to ambush them in the luggage hold, but don't get ambushed yourself if they're already there." To the guards specifically, he said, "I'm putting you six under the command of these three, understand? They're here as representatives of the Jedi Order, and if anyone here dies, I expect it to be you." Finally, he addressed the full group. "If you see any smaller raiding parties trying to get through the hull on your way from here to the bridge, take them out too. Get moving." With that, Kerrowr whirled his juggernaut body away and pounded towards the _Verity_'s stern, roaring orders in every direction as he went.

Pel turned to the four guards nearest him. Privately humbled by his new responsibility, he said simply, "You will have to show me the way to the luggage hold, I'm afraid." They saluted, and one replied, "It's not far from here, master Jedi. We're honored to have you with us."

Pel began to follow them in the direction they pointed, then stopped, glancing back at Elor and Tomet. They shared a long look; then Pel nodded once. "May the Force be with you," he said. With that, he was gone.

Emotions furled, Elor and Tomet beckoned the remaining two guards to follow. They resumed their race to the bridge.

_Two minutes and we'll be there, _Elor thought. _Maybe four with all this commotion. _

_Calm, calm, calm, be calm, _Tomet chanted in her mind.

Two medics appeared out of nowhere carrying a woman on stretcher. A great wound pulsed in the center of her chest; the center bled profusely while the edges were crisped black, sign of a blaster wound. The first medic grabbed one of the guards and said in clipped tones, "You two, doing anything? No? Take this woman to the infirmary, now. We've got six more like her already back there." He and his colleague thrust the stretcher into the hands of the two guards, then rushed off in the direction from which they came.

The guards looked at Elor and Tomet helplessly. The Jedi exchanged a quick look, then waved at them to go. Reluctantly, the guards obeyed, carrying the groaning woman back in towards the center of the ship. "We'll be back as soon as we can," one called over his shoulder before they disappeared around the corner. Resigned, Elor and Tomet ran on alone.

As they ran towards the ramp that led to the bridge level, they passed a door on the spaceward wall of the ship. Just as Tomet ran by it, a great thud and a sound of protesting metal came from behind the door. Both stopped dead, and Elor said, "Boarding party?"

"No doubt," Tomet replied, and a wall seemed to close behind her eyes. A steel-sharp edge grew in her voice. "You go on to the bridge. I'll handle these myself."

A thousand possible protests and warnings swirled through Elor's mind as he groped for words to dissuade her. But he knew well that cold fire behind her words. Allowing one brief flash of emotion, he stepped forward and pulled Tomet into a brief and powerful embrace, which she returned. Then, feeling very young and very afraid, Elor left his oldest friend to whatever fate the Force had in store for her. With a muttered curse, he turned back toward the bridge.

Pel stood feeling useless as the four guards clustered around the sealed door to the luggage hold, sharing information in low, hard voices. Next to these four he felt ill-prepared to put his or any other's life on the line in pitched combat with unknown forces. As they readied themselves to open the door and confront whatever lay beyond, Pel breathed deeply and gathered around himself the armor of the Jedi Code. Beneath his cloak of serenity lay whispers of exhilaration, dread, and uncertainty; and though it all pulsed the Force like an artery.

Elor, panting now, hurtled around a corner and found himself in the doorway to the bridge. A small platform with stairs on three sides stood directly in front of the door; the steps led down to a narrow walkway around the edge of the room, with computer displays on every wall. Crewmen sat at each computer, fingers flying across the displays at frantic speed. Three guards armed with blasters stood around the room. Apart from that, it was empty.

Elor entered the room and descended the steps. He stood recovering his breath as one of the guards, seeing no further aid on the way, stepped forward to seal the bulkhead. That done, they settled down to await the assault.

Behind the door, the sounds of squealing metal had halted and only a pneumatic hissing could be heard from the hall. Tomet felt the presence of the boarders inside as they began to move. Eyes blazing, saber ready, mind cold and sharp and hard—

Tomet lay in wait.


	6. Chapter 6

Pel felt completely unprepared.

The four guards stood huddled around the cargo bay door, listening for sounds from the other side and discussing tactics in low, quick voices. On the other side, the squad of saboteurs would soon be arriving, sneaking through the belly of the ship to hit the shield generators from within. Within moments, the door would open; the ship guards would spread out into the dim, cavernous room beyond, seeking cover with quiet efficiency. And Pel would have to go with them. He would have to fight, kill, and take the responsibilities of those four men's lives in his hands. And he was terrified.

It was difficult to admit. But as the guards prepared to move in, Pel focused inwards, struggling to calm the frantic emotions inside. Fear, apprehension, and a swooning sense of unreality buzzed around the calm center that Pel had created in his heart over the years.

And behind them all, circling the farthest orbit of Pel's emotional solar system, lurked a darker shape, one whose existence Pel could not admit. Its name was excitement, and bloodthirst; and had he known it was there, he would have recoiled in disgust.

Pel's emotions reached a tenuous kind of balance. Abruptly, his meditation was broken by one of the four men, who grabbed him by the arm—Jedi-induced awe melted in the heat of the moment—and led him to the blast door. The other three guards waited on either side, ready to move through as soon as the door opened.

Leading Pel over to the right side of the door, the man said, "Are you ready, Master?"

Pel did not trust himself to speak, even to correct the man's mistaken opinion of his rank. At some dim level, he understood that to hear a quaver in the voice of their Jedi warrior would hurt the morale of these men more than anything; more even than seeing their comrades shot down around them. So he nodded.

The guard nodded back appreciatively, perhaps taking Pel's silence for battle-hardened calm. Pel could feel no emotions radiating from him. Whether it was focus on the guard's part, or lack of focus on Pel's part, Pel only wished he knew.

The guard spoke again, and Pel shook himself out of his musings for the second time. _Mind wandering. Not good. _"As soon as we get in there, two of us will move forward with vibroblades and try to ambush them as they come around one of the crates," the man was saying. "Me and Ki will take our blasters and get positioned somewhere near this door."

As the guard spoke, some of his cool began to spread into Pel, who welcomed it gratefully. His mind finally began to focus down into the burning point that it became during the best of his training spars with Master Yoda. Pel wondered what the guard's name was, and wished he had time to ask.

But he was still speaking. "I don't know what you can do, Master, but I assumed you would want to take your lightsaber up front with Heliop and Geen, to fight hand-to-hand."

Pel spoke in the growing strength of his voice. "No. My talents are not with the lightsaber. I will wield it if necessary, but I will do the most good supporting you from the back."

Pel felt another flush of gratitude when the guard accepted this as tactics, rather than cowardice. "Do you have a blaster, sir?"

At this, Pel, finally cracked a smile—although on his cephalopod's face, it was probably unrecognizable. "I do not need one, my friend. The Force is my ally."

If the guard had something to say to this, it was cut off when one of the other three—Heliop, Pel thought—spoke up. "Cameras show activity on the other side. They're cutting through the opposite door."

The five sentients took their places at the sides of the blast door.

"May the Force be with you," Pel murmured into the silence. For the space of a second, he felt queerly calm. He sensed then that it was the last quiet moment he would remember for some time.

The doors opened, and they moved in.

Tomet sensed the charge being placed, and moved aside just before the spaceward door exploded outwards, spewing fragments of metal to flechette the far wall of the hallway. Smoke billowed through the hole. Before anyone inside had a chance to make good the attack, Tomet was on the move.

The green blade of her saber was the only thing visible through the smoke as she crossed the latchpoint of the boarding craft, and she knew without thinking that the unexpected appearance of the the Jedi Order's weapon would surprise and terrify the raiders. Her eyes squinted against the smoke, but Tomet could feel the floor, feel the jagged metal sticking out of the damaged floor, feel the point where the room ended and the suctioning apparatus of the boarding craft began. And she moved forward, closer to the enemy ship itself, she could feel the attacks before they began.

She deflected one, two, three bright red blaster bolts, sending them back to their owners. One found its mark, and the first cry burst out of the thinning smoke in front if her. There was a dim shape before her, a tall man holding a blade. Her own weapon came up, and she remembered a lesson from years ago. _Never overestimate your enemy's determination, _the old teacher had said as his pupils danced between each other with practice sabers raised. _A shorn limb will stop an undetermined enemy more mercifully than a shorn head. _The lightsaber swung out and to the side, and the pirate's sword-bearing arm fell to the ground with a thump. He fell, and she moved on.

Two more were there, one before her and one charging from the left; she moved to the right and swung her arm about, stabbing her saber through the back of his neck as the man sped past her. The air buzzed as her saber swung back around to remove the offending limb of the other attacker.

Now her mind began to swim through the strange alchemies of adrenaline. Her heart seemed to expand to fill her whole body, her lungs in danger of being pushed right out her chest and onto the floor. Her throat closed. A weird, invincible joy spread from gut to limbs to the tips of her hairs, sweeping aside her emotional discipline; and she welcomed it. Her mind was a metal sphere, a white-hot hard ball-bearing at the core of her body, heating her blood to boiling and beyond. The world was slow, and crimson red.

More blasters; Tomet deflected them without thinking. Now she was moving into the boarding vessel itself, reversing the intended assault. Half-seen enemies fell before her like twigs before the hurricane; some dead, most missing a hand or an arm or a leg, all stunned by the rapidity of their undoing. Later the cleanup squads would count fourteen raiders on that vessel, but Tomet wasn't counting.

She was lost.

The cargo hold was truly vast, the roof as a high as a chapel's. Crates and cases were stacked or strewn all about the ship, some fifteen feet high, some no bigger than a suitcase. The dim fluorescent light that shone from the strips set between walls and ceiling gave the room a gray, pre-dawn look; a dusty Limbo for lost baggage. It seemed an incongruous place for a battle.

The hold was near-silent, quieter if anything than the hall outside. But there it was a tense silence. Pel could feel in his bones the slow approach of the enemy from the other side of the room, and knew from their caution that they were aware of the crewmembers' presence. Another quaver of fear spread through him, bringing with it a physiological reaction oddly similar to that of social embarrassment—a flush of blood in the head, and a prickling in his scalp and armpits. Pel quashed the feeling forcefully.

The two guards with the vibroblades—Ki and the leader whose name Pel had missed—waited until the two snipers had taken positions next to or atop crates, then moved forward silently, weapons drawn. Pel stood for a moment, feeling like an amateur, then crouched behind another crate, near the door. His back lay against the crate, towards the enemy's side of the room. Pel extended his senses. Across the hold six raiders were inching forward from the opposite door, checking behind each crate before moving on. Despair nipped at Pel. An ambush was clearly impossible; these men were taking no chances, and they worked seamlessly as a team even to Pel's untrained eye.

He banished the feeling. _The Force is my ally, _Pel thought, remembering his teacher. _And a powerful ally it is. _Reaching out with his mind and in with his heart, Pel grasped the power that was his birthright as Jedi, felt its familiar pull. It wrapped around him, a white light that only he could see.

Pel smiled. He was ready.

The light rippled, and Pel sensed that battle was joined. He saw in the eye of the Force the exchange between Ki and one of the pirates. Ki sprang from behind one of the crates, but missed his first wild stroke. The raider lashed back, and Ki dodged. Then it all broke loose.

Shots began to fly from both ends of the room, and an ozone smell gradually spread to where Pel sat. He heard a doglike yelp from the other end of the room, and felt one of the raiders go down with a wound in his chest, falling towards unconsciousness. Blade clanged against blade; Ki disarmed his opponent with a deft twist and shoved him into the wall of a cargo container—a concussion, the Force told Pel.

Two of the raiders burst out from opposite sides of one of the crates, flanking the leader of the guards. He leaped backwards reflexively, and nearly fell. One of raiders took a swing with his vibroblade, but Pel _No! _to the Force and a crate tore free of its bindings, knocking the attacker to his knees. Now suddenly the guardwas on his feet and lifting up his sword to strike the fallen raider.

Emboldened, Pel reached out and plucked the blaster from the hands of one of the enemy gunmen, flinging it into a corner. Stunned, the disarmed man turned, perhaps to take cover; and a red blaster bolt struck him, knocking a hole in his gut.

_Four against four now, _Pel thought with a vicious satisfaction that he could never have imagined from himself. The Force swirled darkly around him; and in his brief moment of celebration, the first guard died.

It was the nameless man, the leader who had spoken to Pel before the fight. As one of the raiders lay bleeding on the floor, he had spun to face the other, and run the second raider through the shoulder almost without trying. As he pulled out his blade and kicked his foe's weapon from his hand, a lucky shot cracked into the right side of his head. His skull exploded, and his body fell between the prone forms of the two wounded raiders.

Pel felt the death more deeply than he had felt anything in his life. The man seemed to simply vanish from the sight of the Force like water down a drain, leaving nothing but another transient whirlwind of dark Force energy in the place where he had stood. Rather than vanishing into the light as Pel had always envisioned when his masters spoke of becoming one with the Force, he appeared to have been snatched away, dragged through some hole in the universe by a malevolent zephyr. It was deeply, deeply shocking, and Pel's sight changed instantly. The white light of his Force vision became a bright, panicked red, tinged with orange where it illuminated the beings in the room.

The last of the enemy snipers raised his blaster rifle, and Heliop, the guard nearest Pel, was blasted from his perch with a hole in his throat. Almost simultaneously, Ki took a vibroblade through the heart from his mark, dying immediately. These deaths hit Pel like sledgehammer blows, each perversely driving him more deeply into his connection with the Force, rather than hardening him to it. Real, panicked terror, began to seep into his mind, eroding all his walls, turning the Jedi Code into a foolishness, a nursery rhyme. Desperately Pel fought to maintain his control, but every moment the Force slipped further out of his grasp. His powerful ally seemed to have turned traitor, revealing itself as a mischievous and bloody-minded trickster, a mad thing.

Pel stood, shaking, and activated his lightsaber. Dimly he felt the three remaining raiders advance. Covered by their blaster-wielding companion, the two wounded raiders flanked the last guard. He lashed out desperately at one of the pirates, who sidestepped. The second pirate moved forward and skewered the guard in a fast flicker of steel. Blood sprayed onto the floor, and the man fell.

Stunned beyond thought by the abrupt end of the battle, Pel did not realize what he was doing until his twin-bladed lightsaber was already out and twirling. Leaping over the crate he had used for cover, Pel covered the five meters between him and the raiders with a speed that outmatched his frail body. Shocked by the sudden appearance of another enemy—and a Jedi, no less—the raiders were briefly paralyzed before his charge. A single blaster bolt came his way; Pel swept it aside and in the same fluid motion, decapitated the first man to come within the arc of his blade. The second raider fell back before Pel's onslaught, dodging and ducking to avoid the lightsaber's wild fury. The pirate's foot caught on the edge of a crate as he stepped back, and he fell to the ground. Pel stepped forward to deliver a killing blow, when quicker than his eye could register movement the fallen man's vibroblade leapt up and caught the haft of Pel's saber. It flew from his grasp, the blade vanishing.

The burst of thoughtless energy that had driven Pel forward left him as abruptly as it had come.

Now he found himself backing away as the pirate jumped to his feet and began to close in once more. Feebly, Pel attempted to summon the Force, to push the swordsman away; but it was futile. His weakened body shrank from the task.

Pel continued to retreat, until he felt the far wall of the hold against his back. Seeing their enemy unarmed and cornered, the two pirates advanced slowly, one from the left and one from the right. In his mind Pel scrambled for a solution, for a ploy, for words, but none came. He simply stood and watched as his death approached. Soon enough the pirates closed in to within ten feet of him. The gunman looked at the swordsman, who nodded and stepped forward. He raised his blade to the level of Pel's chest and drew back to strike.

A sudden rage erupted in Pel, of a kind he had never felt. Just before the swordsman's blow fell, a ululating scream of wordless denial tore its way out of Pel's throat. The swordsman moved a step back, taken by surprise, and in that moment Pel felt a new power rising in him. In a bloody-minded dream, he raised his arms, and felt rather than saw the lightning that poured forth from his hands, arcing from the first pirate to the second and setting both their bodies jerking and spinning in a twisted parody of merriment. The white-hot power coursed through Pel's arms like a flame, a painless burning that engulfed all his senses. Hours seemed to pass as he stood there, hands upraised, pure killing force pumping into the bodies of his enemies—and then without warning the lightning stopped, as though a plug had been pulled.

Pel collapsed to his knees, insensate. The last things he saw before he lost consciousness were the burnt and blackened corpses of the two raiders, cooling on the floor of the hold.

It grated at Elor's nerves to stand and wait while outside the bridge doors the battle raged. He forced himself to breath deeply and keep calm, knowing that soon enough the fight would come to him. Crewmen shouted to each other and moved from one place to the next, and with his eyes closed Elor could feel men fighting and dying, could sense the movements of the two ships as they maneuvered around each other. But he kept his eyes opened, focusing his mind on the present moment. Within a few minutes the enemy would be breaking down the doors, and then he would need all the concentration he had.

No more than half a minute later the security cameras showed a party of armed men moving down the corridor toward the bridge entrance, having overcome one of the crew's barricades. Elor caught the eye of each of the three guards that ringed the bridge with him and nodded to each one. They seemed to take strength from that, from the presence of a Jedi in their midst. Elor hoped he could live up to the trust they placed in him.

As they passed by the party of raiders destroyed the cameras in the hallway, so the next warning of the impending attack didn't come until Elor heard a magnetic _thud _on the other side of the door. He guessed that it must be the sound of charges being set, and drew his lightsaber. It's lurid glow painted the right side of his face as he waited for the assault to begin.

With a bang the doors exploded inwards; Elor caught the flying chunks of metal and knocked them to the ground before they could injure any of the crew. As he stood briefly distracted by this task the guards began to fire into the smoky haze of the corridor outside. A scream of pain answered their first volley; and then the pirates were charging, armored men bearing vibroblades moving in to overwhelm the defenders. The first two charged straight into Elor's spinning lightsaber, their armor tearing open like paper under the plasma blade. Another found himself flying through the air mid-charge, Elor's Force blow picking him up and smashing him into the outer wall of the bridge. The guards fired off another volley, then drew vibroblades and joined Elor in close combat.

Though clearly dismayed by the unexpected strength of the defense, the boarders still outnumbered the guards by a ratio of at least three to one. After the first attack and retaliation, the fight broke into several individual combats, multiple pirates dueling with each guardsman and whatever crew members could be spared from the handling of the ship. Elor beheaded another opponent and rescued a nearby guard from death at the hands of two pirates. On the other side of the room one of the guards fell before Elor could reach him, a vibroblade in his belly. Elor cut down the guard's killer and moved on.

Again and again his lightsaber rose and fell; but nonetheless the guards were slowly pushed back, down the steps onto the lower level of the bridge. With his Force sense Elor could feel that there were still more than enough boarders to overwhelm the defenders, though morale was weakening on both sides. A brief lull came in the battle as Elor and the remaining guards spread out around the bottom of the stairs and the boarders spread out around the top. Elor felt the hesitation of the attackers as he sensed the urge to surrender growing in his own men. For a moment, the fate of the ship hung in precarious balance.

Then Elor drew back his sword arm and flung his saber upward, toward the nearest pirate. Guided by the Force, it separated his head from his body in one lazy sweep. Elor was already moving. While the saber was still in flight he spring up the steps and used the Force to pick up both the body and the decapitated head of the pirate; the first he pushed into the pirate to his left, knocking him down the stairs, and he sent the head hurtling back toward the pirates in the corridor. Reaching up his hand, Elor snatched his lightsaber from the air just as it reached the zenith of its arc, and brought it down to cut off the arm of the pirate to his right.

With that, the rout began. Elor flung pirate corpses around the room like so many dolls, knocking their live companions down into the waiting swords of their opponents or backward down the corridor, away from the bridge. Many of the pirates began take the hint, breaking and running away from Elor's oncoming blade. Those that stayed were caught in a chaotic, shifting mess of a battle, ranging up and down the stairs and from one side of the bridge to another.

Even as he chased two more boarders out of the bridge Elor knew the battle was his. He had just begun to congratulate himself when suddenly a massive humanoid shape loomed before him, silhouetted in the blasted doorway. Elor barely had time to lift his weapon before the unseen assailant produced a short baton-like weapon from nowhere and jammed it into Elor's side. A jolt of energy fired through his body, and Elor found himself spinning into blackness.


	7. Chapter 7

A deep muscular ache was just beginning to take up residence in Tomet's arms and shoulders as she forged through the battle-scarred corridors of the freighter. Her right side bore a plasma burn from a blaster shot that had come too close, but otherwise she bore no injuries. Parts of the battle were a dim haze in her memory—had she received the burn while repelling the first shuttle of boarders, or later as she hunted the straggling remains of the enemy force through the ship, taking lives and captives as they were offered her? Little matter. Although the adrenaline had faded, the tension and furor of Tomet's first combat still sang in her mind.

Although she had heard nothing from Kerrowr, Tomet knew she would find him on the bridge, directing the repairs and giving orders from the ship's command center. The path her lightsaber carved for her during the battle had left her near the aftmost part of the freighter by the time the ship's computer blared the all-clear, so Tomet had time to calm herself and observe the movements of the crew around her as she made her way forward. Here and there barricades had been improvised by one side or the other; blaster scores scarred the walls in many places, and corpses still lay on the ground here and there, most of the ship's manpower at that point devoted to caring for those who still lived. Fortunately the ship seemed to have sustained no major damage in the attack, but Tomet had no idea how many had perished in the process of fighting off the pirates. _Whoever Kerrowr buys his insurance from, _Tomet thought dryly, _they'll won't like this one bit._

For that matter, she had no way of knowing how Elor or Pel had fared in the battle; but she forced that from her mind with a determined shove. Kerrowr would know.

An obviously weary guard attempted to stop her from entering the bridge, but drew back when she showed him the lightsaber at her hip. He began to stammer an apology, but Tomet waved it aside and patted his shoulder in what she hoped was an encouraging way. Elor always had a better grasp on such things than her. The deference afforded to the Padawans by everyone on the ship still brought a smile to Tomet's lips, given the status they were used to possessing back at the Temple. It was understandable—most of the common people of the Republic could scarcely recall the difference between Jedi and Sith, much less maintain a knowledge of rank distinctions within the Order.

The doors to the bridge had been blown open violently from the outside, Tomet saw. Once again she put thoughts of Elor from her mind; for all she knew he had been diverted and never even reached the bridge. And clearly the defense had succeeded, else the ship would be in different hands by now.

Regardless, the activity within was much greater than at any other time Tomet had visited the bridge. Medics and crew that had been conscripted to serve them bustled about, carrying away the wounded or dead and tending to those too hurt to move. Meanwhile other crewmembers swarmed frantically along the outer wall of the chamber, operating the computers and carrying out orders that Kerrowr barked out from his position in the center of the room. As usual, the Wookie was surrounded by a cloud of people waiting to report or hear orders from him; the queen at the center of a very busy anthill.

After waiting a few seconds for the crowd to open up, Tomet sighed inwardly and made a small adjustment to her clothing, once more revealing the lightsaber at her hip. The man in front of her saw it and jumped aside with alacrity, whispering to a companion. Within moments the crowd had withdrawn enough to let Tomet through.

"There you are, my Jedi!" Kerrowr said through his translator's deep voice. "I was beginning to think you'd chased those cowards right back onto their own ship. I'm told you fought very well."

Tomet bowed her head slightly in thanks. "I'm sure I only did my duty. To be honest, I remember little enough of the past few hours."

Kerrowr rumbled out a chuckle. "I know the feeling, young one." He waved his waiting crew away, leaving him and Tomet more or less alone in the center of the bridge. "Well, for your first battle, you performed beautifully. And I've seen a few, believe me."

"Thank you, sir." Tomet looked around. "How go the repairs? Did we lose many in the attack?"

"One is many, in my book," Kerrowr said. "But less than I might have feared, with the help of you and your friends. And we sustained no crippling damage to any of our systems. The overhaul won't be fun, but your journey to Imokor will be completed on schedule."

Tomet hesitated for the barest moment before asking. "And...Elor and Pel?"

Kerrowr scowleda forbidding Wookie scowl, and a low rumble escaped his throat. "The news there is less good, I'm afraid. Neither are dead, rest assured. At least, not yet. But Elor seems to have been captured, though for what purpose I do not know. And your friend the Kel Dor...he lies in sick bay and the medics cannot wake him." Tomet drew breath to speak, but Kerrowr halted her. "His body bears no visible wound, they tell me. I have not had time to visit him yet. Do you wish to accompany me to him?"

Tomet nodded. "Yes, very much so." She strove to remain calm, focused. "But before we go, can you tell me how Elor was taken?"

Kerrowr motioned her over to one of the computer banks. He introduced the man operating it as the ship's security officer. "Gan, please show our esteemed guest the image you recovered."

The man nodded and began tapping at one of the displays. As he worked he said, "Your friend Elor led the defense of the bridge and was just on the verge of driving the raiders off when he disappeared. No one was watching at the exact moment it happened, but from what our security monitors show us it seems he was subdued in some fashion by a single, large opponent who had not previously been engaged in the combat." An image appeared on the screen and expanded. "Whoever it was, he was savvy enough to knock out most of the cameras as he made his escape, but we did get this one goo image of him." The sentient in the picture seemed to be a Trandoshan. With one huge reptilian arm he held a form that was unmistakably Elor's over his shoulder.

Gan turned back to face her. "We don't know for sure how he escaped the ship, but one of our escape launches is missing and the camera outside the evacuation area has been shot out. It seems this Trandoshan here either thought his fellow pirates weren't going to escape the battle, or else he decided to desert at the last minute."

Kerrowr spoke. "We were able to track the ship's signature for a short time before something switched it off. I can show you the area of the planet on which your friend's kidnapper landed."

Tomet took a deep breath and forced the words out. Her measured tone disguised the strength of her dismay. "How can we be sure he was merely unconscious in that picture?"

Kerrowr grinned, perversely. "You Jedi, always so dispassionate." Then he gave a very human shrug. "We can't be totally sure, of course. But why would that Trandoshan go through the trouble of carrying a corpse all the way through the ship? If Elor had a price on his head it would make a little more sense—many Trandoshan moonlight as bounty hunters, and such bounties often require a body as proof of completion. But you three have only been in the system for a few hours. You would have to really work at it to get a bounty placed on you in that span of time."

Tomet considered for a moment, then nodded her head in agreement. Her relief was barely concealable. "You say many Trandoshan are bounty hunters. Is there any chance one of the local bounty hunting organizations might have information that could tell us who this man is?"

"Actually," Kerrowr said, "I think I might know already."

Tomet raised an eyebrow. "Really. How?"

"Well, this is hardly my first run-in with the local pirates." The Wookie waved a hand, and Gan brought up a holo of a human male in dark body armor, carrying at his side an odd melee weapon made of twisted metal. "This," Kerrowr continued, "is Vord. The leader of this particular group. I've had face-to-face dealings with him before, and I recall seeing that Trandoshan of yours in his entourage at that time."

"You're familiar with this man? This Vord?"

"I am. I knew him before circumstances put us on opposite sides of the law, in fact."

"Can you give me any information on him?" At the last moment Tomet remembered Master Kenne's stricture to keep their mission secret. "If this Trandoshan works with him that may provide me a lead on how to track Elor down."

Again, that grin bent Kerrowr's shaggy face. "Well, that would be a very long story. But if you ask me later I can give you the salient details." He touched Gan on the shoulder, dismissing him with a gesture. "But that can wait. Your other fellow Padawan is in need."

"Yes," Tomet said, ashamed of having forgotten. "Take me to him."


End file.
